


Bad Press

by RandomFlyer



Series: Life Goals [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Danny Phantom, Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Batman is the JL rep for Fostering children, Clark takes a trip to ghost-central, Clark's not stupid, Danny's got life goals and those include not getting shot at by ghost hunters, Gen, People in Amity as nuts, Really Danny just wants to be left alone and protect people, or getting bad press, or getting targeted by the Justice League
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 12:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18660649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomFlyer/pseuds/RandomFlyer
Summary: Sequel to Life Goals. Recommended you read that first, but not necessary.Clark couldn't believe the sideways turn his luck had taken on this trip to cover the flooding in the Midwest for the Daily Planet. Now he was stuck for twenty-four in this ghost-obsessed town before he could catch the first bus eastward.





	Bad Press

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to the story Life Goals. I recommend you read that first before this story, but it's not necessary.
> 
> I should also probably mention my characterization for Clark Kent comes primarily from the 90's TV show. So if he doesn't match current renditions of Superman, that's why.

Clark Kent smiled at the receptionist as she handed him the key card to his room, then sighed as soon as he was away from the desk. It was just his luck that a perfect storm of events left him stranded in a small town in Illinois for the next twenty four hours. Literally, it was a storm.

After going out to get some first-hand reporting on the flooding in the Midwest, Clark’s return flight was cancelled thanks to another severe storm sweeping through Metropolis. From there it was a series of poor choices and bad luck from desiring to revisit his youth driving through the Midwest, to car accidents shutting down interstates, and finally mechanical failures that left Clark stranded in Amity Park with a broken rental car and twenty four hours till the next bus home. He was starting to think just flying home would be the best option, awkward explanations to the many very inquisitive journalists he worked with on how he got back so soon be damned.

Clark sighed again as he opened the door to the motel room and glanced over the sparse furnishings. There was a bed covered in a faded bedspread, a chair, and ancient bubble-back TV set on a rickety stand. This motel wasn’t going to be earning more than two stars for some years to come. The ghost-themed decorations, while odd, at least gave a consistent look to the room, even if Halloween was six months away. Still, he’d been in worse. He dropped his small overnight bag on the bed and turned back around determined to both find some food and spend as little time in the room as possible.

“Hi again,” Clark said to the girl at the desk, drawing her attention up from her phone. “I was wondering if there were any good restaurants in the area?”

The girl hummed to herself. “There’s the Nasty Burger. It’s basically fast food, but their sauce is good. A new restaurant just opened near the park. I haven’t tried it yet, but I heard it’s pretty good.”

Clark nodded with a smile. “Thanks I’ll try that.” He paused by the rack of brochures and advertisements on his way out, hoping to find something to while away the hours before sunset. Unfortunately, the vast majority of the pamphlets were for ghost tours. There was a safety notice on the wall detailing what pedestrians should do in case of a ghost attack. Clark shook his head as he pushed out past a sign wishing him a “BOO-tiful” day!” The motel management were pushing the ghost theme a little too much.

Five minutes after walking through the streets of Amity Park and Clark decided it wasn’t just the motel going a little crazy with ghost-mania. Half the stores Clark passed, particularly in the downtown area were orientated toward tourists and ghost hunting. In each store window hung the public safety announcement concerning ghost attacks and what a person should do in case of one as well as other public and private announcements concerning ghosts. Even the new restaurant, The Haunted Kitchen, had a ghost theme.

Clark stared up at the sign, seriously debating just finding the fast food place. His stomach growled, though, and he decided spending more time walking around in search for different food wasn’t worth waiting to actually get some food.

It was too late for lunch but too early for dinner so the 50’s style ghost-themed diner stood largely empty. A line of vinyl cushioned booths ran along one wall, a bar along the other, and tables with chairs in the middle. The large windows facing the street had another bar with stools so patrons could sit and watch the foot traffic outside. A group of Asian tourists argued loudly in Chinese with a large and colorful map spread out between them in a booth. Another single man with a series of very expensive cameras sat at the window, watching the street with a half-eaten burger next to him.

“Sit anywhere you like, honey!” a middle-aged waitress called from behind the counter, “I’ll be with you in a minute!”

Clark nodded his thanks and moved to take a seat facing the street outside. He’d be able to watch the goings-on of small town America, something he missed in bustling Metropolis, while also avoiding the searing green color decorating most of the restaurant.

A few minutes after sitting down, the waitress came over with a menu the same neon green and black colors as her dress. “I’m Betty, I’ll be taking care of you today, alright? Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Water please,” Clark said then couldn’t help but ask, “Sorry, I was wondering what’s with all the public announcements about ghost attacks.”

“New to town, huh?” Betty said, with a knowing smile.

“I’m just passing through,” Clark said.

“Well, Amity Park’s the most haunted town in America, probably the world. We have ghost sightings all the time and every once in a while they attack, but you don’t need to worry. As long as you stay inside or move away from any screaming you hear then you’ll probably be fine. It’s been months since we’ve have any kind of major invasion and the smaller attacks are easy to avoid. If you’re just staying the night, then you might not even see any,” Betty said with a dismissive wave of her order pad.

Clark frowned. A town regularly getting attacked by the apparently supernatural seemed like something The League should have been tracking, but this was the first he’d heard of it. “What do you mean attacks?”

Betty shrugged. “It really depends on the ghost. We’ve had practically any kind you can think of, but there are a few regulars. The box ghost is common to hear about, but he’s basically harmless. Sometimes he’s even useful when he takes the recyclable cardboard away. Not sure where it goes, but it’s really not our problem after it’s gone from here. There’s some others that are little more dangerous, but it’s like I said, move away from the screams, stay indoors. You’ll be fine.” The waitress certainly didn’t seem worried about the prospect of an attack.

”Has anyone gotten hurt?” Clark asked. If no one’s been hurt then maybe that’s why the League had never heard about it.

Now Betty did look a little chagrined. “Well, sometimes. It’s usually from flying debris or running away or being hit by cars. Phantom does a good job stopping the ghosts from actually hurting anyone directly. The property damage can get a little much, but considering how low the crime rate is because of the ghost activity. I suppose it’s a fair trade off.” Betty bobbed her head back and forth weighing the two options. When Clark just stared at her in minor shock she snorted a laugh. “Don’t believe me? Stay a few days, see for yourself. Or not, the rest of the world thinks we’re all crazy. It really doesn’t matter if you do, too. We still get tourists coming in for the ghosts either way. I’ll go get that water for you, give you a chance to look over the menu.”

Clark watched her retreat back to the counter. He glanced at the man sitting farther down the bar, still waiting with his camera at half-ready. Then, Clark looked out at the street and surrounding buildings. The road did look like it had seen better days, the sidewalk, too. Several of the trees in the park across the road had broken limbs, but those could easily be explained by winter storms. Across the street, another group of tourists decked out in ghost-themed gear meandered past, gazes turned toward the skies and cameras at the ready.

Shaking his head, Clark looked down at the menu. He’d seen some pretty outlandish publicity claims to bring business into a town or store, some of it even revolving around him, but this was one of the more elaborate claims yet. Who was he to judge?

Clark ordered the chicken sandwich and relaxed into watching the steady foot traffic coming in and out of the park. The group of tourists from the back left and the man with the cameras ordered a slice of pie and coffee. A teenaged girl with red hair and teal pants came in and got a milkshake before sitting down at the inside bar and cracking open a large textbook. Clark was just thinking of taking a walk through the park after dessert when the man with the cameras started clicking off several rapid series of pictures.

“It’s him!” the man cried, jumping up from his seat. “It’s Phantom!” The man ran outside.

The girl’s head snapped around and she got up, hurrying to the doorway and looking outside. “Ugh,” she groaned before turning back around and heading back to her seat. “It’s just a giant ghost moth and it’s not even that big,” she said to Betty.

The waitress nodded and went back to folding napkins.

Clark craned his head to look out the window but couldn’t see anything unusual beyond a growing crowd of bystanders, mostly tourists, stopping and pointing up to the sky. Standing, he hurried out to the street.

Looking up, Clark didn’t know what he expected to see, but it wasn’t a white-haired teenaged boy dressed in a black and white hazmat suit engaged in an aerial dogfight with a six foot green and purple moth. The two glowing, flying figures dodged around and dove at each other. On the street, the crowd cheered as the boy managed to land a few punches and “Oh’d!” as the boy took a few hits.

A passing bystander, uninterested in the fight, pushed past Clark and through the growing crowd of tourists, muttering under their breath. Clark stared at the retreating back and looked around at the other locals moving on with barely more than a glance at the two beings twenty feet above street level.

Clark stepped up to a woman standing nearby wearing an employee tee-shirt for the game store next to the restaurant. “Excuse me,” Clark caught her attention, “Is this common?”

The girl gave him a double look, glancing to him, back to the fight, and back to him. “Sure,” she said. On the last look her gaze took him and his decidedly non-tourist appearance in fully and her expression brightened. “Oh! Are you press?!” she asked and leaned in with a bounce, “Do you want to interview me?”

“Well, yes, I am with the press,” Clark admitted, if it got him answers then he’d interview however many people he needed to about this.

Glancing up at the fight again, Clark caught the boy’s head snap around at Clark and the girl, eyes wide in horror right before the moth body slammed him to the ground. The crowd “ooh’d” in sympathy from the hit. The boy groaned. Around him, tourists stepped closer taking pictures at a furious pace.

“No pictures, please!” the boy wheezed out, “And you guys really need to stay back. It’s not safe!” He opened a pair of acid green and glowing eyes, then yelped in surprise before vanishing just as the moth dove down through the pavement. The tourists jumped back with a few shrieks of surprise.

“My best friend got interviewed during the last invasion and didn’t stop bragging about it for weeks!” the girl said. She glanced around. “Do you have a cameraman or something to take pictures?”

“Not with me, I’m afraid,” Clark said, staring wide-eyed at the street where the boy and moth had both vanished, one into thin air and the other into the pavement. “How often does this sort of thing happen?” Clark asked. He scanned the area, wondering if he needed to prepare to step in if things got too dangerous for the crowd.

“All the time!” the girl said with a wave of her hand, also glancing around the area. “Though they’re usually more common at night or in the early morning. So there’s not going to be pictures of me in the paper or anything? That’s a bummer.”

“I’ve got my phone,” Clark offered, pulling out his phone. The girl beamed. Clark snapped a quick picture, just to keep her happy and talking. “How long has this been going?”

“Gotta be at least a year,” the girl said, frowning as she thought. “I mean there’s always been ghost stories about the town. Then people started talking about getting attacked by ghosts. I guess the first big one was the when some lunch lady ghost attacked last September. I saw my first one back in November.” She kept her gaze moving around as she spoke to Clark, scanning the sky, the street, the crowd. “Be ready to move, by the way. There’s no way to tell where or when or if they’ll appear again.”

Almost as if on cue, a scream came from a clump of trees. A crack and breaking of another tree branch with a crash followed. Then there was a bright light through the branches and some tourists rushed to the spot in the trees.

The girl waved her hand at the rushing spectators. “They’re wasting their time. When you see that white light it usually means the fight’s over and Phantom caught the ghost.” From the other side of the park Clark could hear a siren and squealing tires. “And that’s the local ghost nuts. That means the fight’s _really_ over.” She turned back to Clark, hooking her thumbs in a metal studded belt, body falling into a more relaxed posture.

“Who’s Phantom?” Clark asked, noticing shift in the girl and the other locals who had stopped to watch the fight. They all relaxed, most of them moving on their way down the street. Clark stayed alert.

“That was the white haired kid. They used to call him Inviso-bill, but then he told everyone he preferred Phantom. He’s one of the good ghosts, a real hero!” the girl said, grinning. “He’s been around since the very start of the attacks and pretty much always fights the other ghosts that attack people. He even stopped the major invasions that happened.”

The girl took a breath bounced on her toes as she continued on with hardly a breath. “Some people say he can’t be trusted and I mean, yeah, he’s had some bad rap in the past, but he gets beat up all the time trying to catch ghosts wandering around town and he’s hardly ever attacked people and they pretty much always attack him first! Besides, those two times I’m pretty sure there was something else going on, I mean the stories really don’t match up if you really look at them. And other times people have tried to kill him and all he did was try and get away from them when he could totally have wasted them, but he didn’t because he’s one of the good guys!”

Clark listened to the rambling explanation with growing concern. “So I take it you’re a fan?”

“Oh yeah,” she nodded with another bounce. “I even met him one time! He saved me from a giant ghost slug when I was coming home from a late night shift!” She glanced over Clark’s shoulder and groaned. “I gotta get back in the store.”

Clark glanced back to the store entrance as well. “Well, it’s been good talking to you, Miss…”

“Penny Coal,” the girl said, pointing to her employee name tag. “Hey, if you need any more interviews you can call me at the store.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Clark said, with a smile as the girl hurried back into the game store. He frowned and looked back toward the street where the boy had landed. Like the waitress said, there looked like there were a few fresh cracks in the pavement, but maybe that was just his imagination.

Clark turned and moved back to the restaurant but something grabbed Clark’s arm and pulled him into an alleyway, away from prying eyes. Clark spun around, ready to handle any common mugger that had the bad luck to pick him as a target, only to find empty air behind him. “Hello?” Clark said, frowning. This town was getting weirder by the moment.

“Uuh, hi…” a young voice replied, hesitant and from a point hovering just a few feet away from Clark even though he couldn’t see anything there, “I don’t want to scare you, but did I hear you say you’re a reporter?”

“Yes…” Clark replied, in a neutral tone. He didn’t know about ghosts, but he did know that what he just witnessed out on the street and whatever was facing him now was not normal, even if the town claimed it was. Luckily, Clark had more than enough experience dealing with the unknown and strange. The key here was staying calm. If he could strike up a conversation he could maybe figure out what on earth was going on in this town. “I’m a reporter from the Daily Planet in Metropolis.”

“As in the city Metropolis?” the voice cracked in high-pitched nerves, “Like…that’s a big newspaper, right?”

“One of the biggest on the eastern seaport,” Clark said, tapping down a smile. He’d met his fair share of malicious and hostile entities during his tenure as Superman. Whatever was in front of him seemed more like a nervous teenager than anything else. “It’d be easier to talk if I could see you,” Clark said, putting one hand in his pocket while the other dropped to his side, still holding his phone.

A long pause followed the statement and Clark thought he might have scared the thing away, but the outline of a person faded into view. It was a boy, maybe fourteen or fifteen, floating eye level off the ground. He was the same boy from moments before fighting the moth in the street, the same white hair, same glowing green eyes made even more striking by the transparent face.

“So…why are you in town?” the boy asked, watching Clark like the slightest move Clark made would send the boy running.

“Phantom, right?” Clark asked instead of answering right away.

The boy gave a reluctant nod.

“I’m actually just staying for the night, didn’t even mean to stop here,” Clark said, completely at a loss for where this conversation was going. He’d take a page from Bruce’s book, though, let the boy direct the conversation and see where it led.

“So you’re not here to write an article about the ghosts,” Phantom said, coming a little more into focus, looking a little more hopeful. “Because that would be a really bad idea,” the boy said with a firm nod.

Clark crossed his arms. “That almost sounds like a threat.” Actually, it sounded like a teenager trying to show more confidence than they really felt, but that was unimportant at the moment.

The boy immediately paled, or rather, turned more transparent. “No! No, no, no, I’m not threatening anyone! I’m just giving sound professional career advice. Think of how it’s going to look to everyone else if you go back to a big city like Metropolis and try to tell everyone that you saw a giant ghost moth in Illinois. The last time someone tried to write an article about ghost activity and get it published in a legitimate newspaper, they got fired for it!”

Clark narrowed his gaze on the boy.

Phantom winced and ran a gloved hand through his hair, muttering under his breath “Ah fudge, he’s right, that really does sound like a threat.” He shook his head, insistent. “It’s not, really. It’s really just a friendly warning. If you don’t believe me look up Harriet Chin! She was the journalist working for the Milwaukee Journal. She tried to write a story about ghosts and they laughed her out of the office. I’m looking out for you on this, I swear.”

Clark raised an eyebrow. “And this piece of advice comes solely from your good intentions for the safety of my career, does it?”

“Aw c’mon!” Phantom cried throwing his hands up. “I’m trying to help you out here!”

“Or prevent me from writing the story of the century,” Clark said. Actually, news stories were just about the last thing on his mind with this new development. “What’s in it for you?”

“You know, that’s exactly what Harriet Chin said about her story right before they _fired_ _her_ ,” Phantom said, crossing his own arms and doing a poor interpretation of a tough-guy look.

It only took a minute of Clark staring and waiting in silence before the kid crumpled.

Phantom huffed, gripping his hair before spreading out his hands between them. “Look, everybody who writes articles about ghosts for regular newspapers outside of Amity gets laughed out of a job, but the articles they write almost always get picked up by paranormal groups and those articles always talk about how all ghosts are evil. I’m not evil! I’m just a guy trying to keep ghosts and people from hurting each other but it always ends with both sides attacking me and those articles really only make things worse. So I am begging you, please don’t write anything that’s going to send another wave of ghost hunters to town gunning for my head when all I’m trying to do is protect people!”

Phantom was panting by the end of his rant and looking more than a little desperate. He took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. “I just really don’t want any more bad press.”

Clark really had no response to that. There were more than enough people, especially when the truth of aliens first came out, that said all extraterrestrials were evil. Personally, Clark doubted if there was such a thing as a group of life forms where all members were completely “evil”. If the kid was being honest about the public reception of himself and these “ghosts” then Clark could understand why he was worried about more articles on the topic.

“Ok,” Clark said, “I won’t publish anything about it.”

Phantom blinked at him. “You…you won’t?”

“I promise,” Clark said with a smile. “I won’t publish any articles about the ghost fight.” Didn’t mean Clark wouldn’t inform another group of people who should really be tracking this town and what was happening.

“T-Thank you!” Phantom beamed. He leapt forward and grabbed Clark’s hand pumping it up and down, making Clark startle but thankfully not slug the poor kid. “I really appreciate it! Thank you so much! Hope you enjoy the rest of your stay in Amity!” Then the boy vanished leaving nothing behind but a chilly breeze.

Clark stared at the spot where Phantom vanished, then down at his hand. The boy’s grip was strong and cool to the touch, but definitely solid. Shaking his head, Clark turned and headed back to the diner. If the public at large and Perry found out about this he would kill Clark for not writing that story.

* * *

Clark did not return to Metropolis directly. He thought about it as he ate dessert, wandered the streets, and finally lay in bed at his cheap motel. His first inclination was to simply call the League together and tell everyone about what he witnessed in Amity Park, but something held him back. Maybe it was the desperate look Phantom had at the end of his rant or the way the kid sagged with relief when he thought no one else would find out about Amity’s ghost problem or the fact that the attacks had been happening for a year and he only just heard about them. Whatever it was, Clark needed to get a second opinion.

The next morning, Clark swallowed down the frustration at needing to maintain a civilian cover and bought a bus ticket to Gotham City. He needed to talk the issue over with someone he knew would keep the matter confidential and no one could keep a secret like Bruce Wayne, especially from his fellow heroes at the Justice League.

“Mr. Kent, what a surprise,” Alfred said when he answered the door. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“There’s been sort of a…new development Bruce and I need to discuss,” Clark said. If he said that he needed advice specifically he’d never hear the end of it. “Is he around?”

“In the study, sir,” Alfred said with a nod.

Clark turned and moved to the study, meeting Bruce just as the man came out the door.

“What are you doing here?” Bruce asked, brow furrowed, not quite a scowl but close. He didn’t like people showing up at his house unexpected, even allies.

“I needed to talk to you about something, might be best if we go downstairs,” Clark said.

It always impressed Clark the difference between Bruce and Batman, the change coming like a switch no matter what outfit the billionaire wore. Right now, Batman looked at him before sighing and turning for the hidden passage to the Batcave. Clark followed, waiting till they were heading down the steps to the main computer display before he spoke again.

“Have you heard of a town called Amity Park?” Clark asked.

“Yes,” Batman said.

_Of course he has_ , Clark thought barely restraining an eye roll. He assumed he didn’t need to ask his next question, but did anyway. “Have you heard about what goes on in that town?”

“You’re talking about the ghosts,” Batman said, sitting down at his computer. He hit a few keys and the monitors came to life covered in reports about the supernatural activity in Amity Park, Illinois. “I’ve been tracking it for the past couple of weeks. Someone’s gone to great lengths to make sure the rest of the world is as much in the dark as possible about the entities attacking Amity Park. So how did you find out about it?”

“I passed through there yesterday and witnessed a ghost attack first-hand. The locals just went about their day like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Those people are nuts,” Clark said, unsurprised that Batman already knew about the ghosts and that he had kept it to himself. Really the only surprising thing about it was that Batman had only been tracking Amity Park for a couple of weeks. “There was a giant ghost moth attacking a teenaged ghost boy.”

“Phantom,” Batman said. He hit a few more keystrokes and the monitors shifted showing multiple pictures of varying quality of the same boy Clark spoke to in the alley. “He’s Amity’s self-proclaimed protector.”

“That’s him,” Clark confirmed. “So if someone’s going to such great lengths to hide Amity Park from the world, how did you find out?”

“I had an encounter with Phantom and a ghost called the Box Ghost a number of weeks ago. That’s when I started my research,” Batman said. He swung around in his chair and looked at Clark. “You?”

“A series of unfortunate events landed me in Amity Park for the night,” Clark said. Bruce was still in his civilian clothes but it was almost comical to see Batman staring out of those eyes, calculating and analyzing everything Clark told him. “While I was out getting dinner I saw the fight between Phantom and a six foot glowing moth. I think he heard me admit to a local that I was with the press and after the fight he dragged me into an alleyway and basically begged me not to write any articles about ghosts and Amity.”

“I can’t say I blame him,” Clark continued, gesturing to some of the headlines displayed on the computer screens. None of them were particularly flattering, even the ones meant to be complimentary. “He seemed pretty desperate to avoid any more articles being written about him.”

“How else did he seem?” Batman asked, “What did you make of his character?”

“He handled the giant moth well, no one got hurt that I saw. There was minimal property damage. The fight was over quickly, but afterwards…” Clark thought back to the pleading, panicking teenager from the alleyway. “He seemed like a kid in over his head.”

Batman nodded, swinging back around to look at the monitors again. “That’s been my assessment after looking through all the information.”

There was a moment of silence before Batman spoke up. “Don’t tell the others about this.”

Clark frowned. “You sure? These ghosts seem like they could cause problems if we don’t prepare for them.” Usually, it was Batman’s job to rant about preparations and contingency plans.

Batman leaned back in his chair, eyes still fixed on the monitors. “As far as I can tell, these ghosts have been appearing in Amity Park since last September. Phantom’s managed to keep them contained, for the most part. Someone else has been influencing the media and the online presence, but they would never have been able to limit awareness of Amity Park’s ghosts if Phantom wasn’t as successful as he has been and with almost no discernable training.”

Clark shook his head. “You have to have a better reason than the fourteen year old dead kid can handle the unknown number of apparently dangerous ghosts capable of entering our world.”

Batman pulled up one last series of files on the monitors. They were a series of official documents, government mandates, and government organizational guidelines. “The anti-ecto acts were passed by Congress a few months after the attacks in Amity started. They were passed in a larger funding bill with almost no notice. The acts also created a small government-funded ghost hunting unit called the GIW, most people refer to them as the Guys in White, thanks to their uniform.”

Clark’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at the photographs and several government agents in white suits firing on Phantom. “Government funded ghost-hunters?”

Batman’s voice dropped to that level of chill that he usually reserved for criminals. “The anti-ecto acts basically strip all rights or status as a sapient being from any entity that produces ectoplasm or need it to survive. The Guys in White have been particularly…enthusiastic in their scientific research.”

There weren’t any pictures of the experiments, but a few lines from the subsequent reports sent shivers down Clark’s spine. When he was younger, still unsure of how people would react to him if they knew he was from another planet, he had nightmares of being caught by a government organization and dissected. “The League is operated under a government charter,” he said. No need to be a genius detective to see the problem in building trust there.

Batman nodded. “When I met Phantom, he asked me not to tell the authorities and especially not to tell the Justice League about him. He was afraid we would act on the bad press he gets without delving any deeper. He’s already been targeted by one group with permission from the government. No reason for him to think we would do anything different. You’re right when you say he’s in over his head, but outing him to the League won’t help him. Leave him to me.” He struck a few keys and the screens went blank.

Clark huffed a laugh. “Well you are the League expert with raising teenaged vigilantes.”

Batman turned in his chair and leveled a glare at Clark.

Clark grinned, throwing his hands in the air. “I’ll see myself out. Let me know if you need anything!” He turned and shot up the stairs before Batman could respond. He’d keep his ear to the ground for anything related to Amity Park, but Batman was right. Right now the best thing was to keep this as low key as possible and leave the League’s representative for foster parents to do his work.

 

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think!


End file.
